


Thief

by SpaceAsthmatic



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Backstory, Best Friends, Cute, Doriath, Ferdan - Freeform, Friendship, Fun, Light Angst, Male Friendship, Minor Character Death, Pre-Lord of The Rings, Second Kinslaying | Sack of Doriath, Young Thranduil, character backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21592873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceAsthmatic/pseuds/SpaceAsthmatic
Summary: Some lifelong friendship are built on wholesome foundation's, and some are built upon getting arrested for theft, and then immediately helping to arrange an illegal and rigged betting pool.
Relationships: Galion & Thranduil (Tolkien), Lúthien Tinúviel & Thranduil, Oropher & Thranduil (Tolkien), Thranduil & Beleg, Thranduil & Elu Thingol, Thranduil (Tolkien) & Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	Thief

The only reason that he didn’t make another swing on the guards and try to get away again was that they only untied him seconds before he was shoved through the door into King Thingols court. They must have sensed this about him because they both kept a tight hold on each arm as they marched him up the aisle. 

He stared at the floor and tried to force himself to take even breaths, even as he felt the impossible weight of many important eyes on fully on him. They came to a stop, and he hoped they could not see how he shook with adrenaline and pent up fears. 

“What is his crime?” Somebody asked, he assumed it was King Thingol. But he hadn’t raised his eyes from the floor yet, it seemed like something he shouldn't do until addressed, so he couldn’t be sure 

“A string of thefts, my king.” The most annoying guards had said, the one who’s nose he was fairly certain he had broken, “And he refuses to tell us his name and family.” 

To his surprise, the guards let go of his arms, but didn’t step away. The voice that had spoken before came again, “Why did you do it?” 

And so he raised his eyes, all the way up the throne and to his King that from here seemed as tall as a tree, “Didn’t want to get arrested, sir.” 

At least King Thingol did not appear angry, “I wasn’t talking about the black eye.” 

He forced himself to meet his Kings eyes, “I was aware of that.” 

Somebody to the King’s left spoke in an obvious rushed manner, but one that was just as equally confident, “It’s food for six elflings, the things he stole. Its food.” 

He peeled his eyes away from the King to look at the one who had spoken, the only logical answer was that it was Prince Thranduil. He hadn’t thought he had ever met or seen the Prince until this day, unfortunately, he realized he was wrong. 

Prince Thranduil, apparently, had been the only elf that had ever successfully followed him home without him noticing, after watching him steal things from the city market, it had been his little sister that had pointed the Prince out. 

He had been certain he would be hauled away that day, but the stranger had just waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and wandered away without a glance back, whistling a merry tune. 

Still looking at the Prince he said, “Its eight elflings, actually.” 

“What is an elf so young doing with eight elfings?” King Thingol asked. 

He turned back to his King, “They’re my brothers and sisters and cousins.” 

“And you cannot provide for them any other way other than theft?” 

"I have a job, my king. Two in fact. I work in a lumberyard as a porter or splitter in the day, and in the evening and nights, I help the fishermen haul in their catches and clean them for tomorrow's market. In my spare time, I sing in the streets. It's not enough." He silently congratulated himself on keeping his voice so steady thus far. 

To his surprise King Thingol gave this several moments of quiet and genuine contemplation, "Are there none other that can assist you with the family funds?" 

"My Nana was taken from us during my youngest sister’s birth, Ada hasn't gotten out of bed since. My Aunt does what she can, but my uncle never returned from a battle against the agents of evil and my youngest cousin is but three years old so she has to stay at home with them. I am the only one left, my king, that’s able to work." 

Again, Prince Thranduil spoke before the King could reply, "There's a space on my patrol. It's a bit dangerous, but it pays well. Can you use a sword?" 

“Better than my fists.” Which was not entirely true. He was good, the best in any of the neighborhoods on the city outskirts, but obviously not as well as those in the army. 

As if remembering their setting, the Prince turned to look at King Thingol who was staring at him unashamedly, “Apologies, my King.” 

King Thingol snorted a small laugh, "You're a worse liar than your father. He will need training, and the next group is not set to start for two months yet.” 

“I’ll train him.” Prince Thranduil volunteered immediately,, “What better way to keep me out of trouble?” When King Thingol just continued to stare at him silently for a few seconds too long Prince Thranduil added, “Please?”

King Thingol looked back at him, “And what do you think of this? Would you accept daily training from Prince Thranduil?” 

“Of course, my king, without hesitation.” He said quickly, his heart beating faster than it ever had. Finally the Valar bestowed him with some kind of good luck. Finally. 

King Thingol looked back to his left, “And you’re ready to take full responsibility for him and his training?” 

“Yes,” Prince Thranduil answered, adding a few vigorous nods to prove his point and enthusiasm. 

“Very well, Thranduil.” King Thingol turned back to him, kindness already shining in his eyes, “ “You are pardoned of your charges, this time. I will arrange for a monetary value to be delivered to the merchants that brought complaints against you, and one delivered to your home to help your family until your first real payment.” 

He thought he might actually pass out from relief and lack of oxygen, “Thank you my King, for your mercy and understanding.”

“You will not find such things again if you are brought to my court for any further crimes.” 

He bowed for the first time in his life, and knew it was awful but he did it anyways, “Of course, I understand.” 

“Good. Your training starts today. Right now.” 

Like a fire had been lit beneath him, Prince Thranduil got up from his chair and came down the steps two at a time and gestured for the gaurds to step aside. With one last pathetic excuse for a bow, he turned and ran after the Prince. 

As they turned into a main hallway, and prying ears the Prince asked him, “So what is your name, then? Seems fitting I know it if I am to train you everyday.” 

“Ferdan.”

0.0.0.0.00.00.00

Ferdan stumbled out of the Kings back gates late in the evening, Prince Thranduil closed them behind them with a slight clang. With an almost smile he looked back to Ferdan and drew his hood over his head, “I’ll see you here early tomorrow, then.” 

“I have to help get the kids ready for school, I can meet you two hours past sunrise.” 

“Works for me,” Prince Thranduil said, turning away. Without a thought or single moment of preparation, he leapt upwards onto a small pile of boxes resting against a house in an alleyway. With the small leverage, he leaped up to grab the long rails of the balcony and swung himself up. 

His feet were not balanced for even a second before he was leaping again, this time catching the edge of the roof and he pulled himself up just as fast, and vanished from view. Half a breath later, Ferdsn could just make our the silhouette of the Prince practically slipping across the rooftops.

Ferdan stood there, stunned for a while at all that had transpired that day. None of it he had been expecting. Least of which was for him to genuinely enjoy Prince Thranduil’s company. It was not often he met a mind with such sharp wit attached to a faster mouth. 

Now that he had seen his face for himself, Ferdan realized he had since the Prince many times. Always up to something, moving, observing, and laughing. 

Ferdan realized that one of the places he had seen him was because he was the same stranger that had dropped bags of food off in their yard several times in a month. He never would have guessed. 

He began walking home through the city streets whistling a merry tune, beyond pleased that he could be going home right now when usually he would be about to start his shift at cleaning fish for market.  
0.0.0.

By the third day of training, Ferdan was fairly ceratin his legs were so sore that he would never be able to move them again. But still, he rose at the break of dawn and marched across the entire length of the city from the poor outskirts, to the rich main palace. 

As usual, Prince Thranduil stood to wait for him near the gates, leaning against a low wall. As usual, he managed to be more casual in a single stance than Ferdan had been in his entire life. Unlike usual, however, was that he did not stand alone. 

It was only will power alone that kept Ferdan’s steps from faltering because Lady Luthien was perched on top of the wall, leaning an elbow on Prince Thranduil’s shoulders, with her head resting upon his. 

Both had been laughing but drew quit as he drew nearer. Ferdan came to a stiff stop in front of them and performed what he knew was a very pathetic excuse for a bow. To his surprise, they didn’t laugh at him. 

This was only the second time he had ever seen the Lady Luthien in person before, and the only time before was when he had been brought before the king for his crimes. Three days ago. 

He hoped his hands still didn’t reek of fish. They probably did, one could not clean and gut fish for half a decade and have the smell vanish in days. 

The Valar were not that nice. 

Thranduil stepped away from the wall, without thought or ceremony he turned and put both hands on Luthine’s waist and lifted her off the wall and placed her gently on the ground, “You might as well stop trying to do that, you’re no good at it anyway. And none of us want such formalities.” 

Without waiting for Ferdan to respond, Thranduil began leading the way. After giving him a bright and gleaming smile, the Lady Luthien skipped after him. Her impossibly long black hair dancing around her in every direction. 

Ferdan forced himself to follow. 

They weren’t going the way they usually did, but he didn’t say a word. Even if he had bothered to ask, he doubted Prince Thranduil would have told him where they were going anyways. 

The Prince turned sharply to the right and pulled open a door that seemed to lead to some kind of cellar. With some suspicion, Ferdan followed them down to what indeed appeared to be a large storehouse of preserved or drying foods and barrels of wine. 

They all stopped in the most open area, and the Prince turned to Lady Luthien, “Is there anybody here?” She shook her head, “Good.” 

“So are you going to tell me why it looks like we’re having a secret meeting?” Ferdan asked, crossing his arms across his chest to make sure his hands didn’t have the chance to shake. This all seemed so paper-thin, like one wrong breath from him would have him back to two jobs that didn’t even cover the bills. 

“Because this is a secret meeting,” Lady Luthien answered cheerfully, “Right, Thranduil?” 

“I mean, I probably would not have been as blunt as you-” 

“For the first time, ever,” She interrupted swiftly and smoothly, throwing a wink to Ferdan. 

Prince Thranduil glared at her briefly but continued on seamlessly, “I would have probably said something along the lines of ‘planned meeting of select individuals’” 

“Sounds like a secret meeting to me.” Lady Luthien interrupted again. 

This time Thranduils glare was far more cutting and sustained, “Would you like to be invited to the next one?” 

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out to him, “Like you could have kept it from me if you tried.” 

“Anyways,” Thranduil stressed, before pulling a folded piece of parchment from within his pocket and handed it to Ferdan, “Its about this.” 

He unfolded it carefully and looked at the poster. He knew the sight instantly, the city was absolutely covered with near-identical posters advertising for the annual Warriors Ladder competition. Where everybody and anybody who was foolish enough to believe that they could defeat all of the other fools for the chance to win the prize and a title. 

Ferdan had never considered himself a fool, but he was getting the sneaking suspicion that Prince Thranduil did. He looked back up from the poster, “And?”

“Suppose you were the one to win this year, would that help your family?” 

He narrowed his eyes, trying to see if this was some sort of weird joke that he didn’t understand, “That kind of money could help my entire street.” 

“Fantastic, so tonight before you go home register yourself before they close the signup.” 

Ferdan forced his eyes not to swell with surprise, he wasn’t sure how successful he was, “With both you and Beleg Cuthalion competing?” He snorted and handed the flyer back, “I’ll pass, thanks. I think I’ve been humiliated enough for this century.” 

“What if Beleg and I managed to get ourselves disqualified?” 

He looked between the two royals with confusion, “What?” 

Thranduil cleared his throat, “I think that if you let me train you just a little bit harder, in three months time I could make you good enough to win the competition. I’ve already spoken with Beleg and he agreed to help me ensure that he and I will face one another before we face you.”

“It helped Beleg still owes you several favors.” Luthein lightly added when Thranduil took a slight pause.

He gave her a slightly wicked grin but otherwise continued seamlessly,” And if, let’s say, when the time comes for our match both just so happen to do something against the rules and get disqualified. And if somebody were to place a very, very large bet on you, and then trick all the other warriors and young nobles into betting on Beleg or me, whoever placed the bet on you could stand to win a very hefty amount indeed.”

Lady Luthien seemed to take her cue now that he had finished speaking, “And I’m sure that whatever anonymous better would be more than happy to donate all of her winnings to the champion.” 

Ferdan stood there in what he imagined was the most idiotic expression on his face, at a loss for anything else to say, he simply asked: “You managed to plan all of that in the three days since you’ve met me?” 

“He planned it all in one night, the first day you two met” Luthien corrected, with a proud smile, “Thranduil wastes no times when it comes to schemes and planning them.” 

The Prince just shrugged, “I wanted to be sure you had enough talent and discipline to make it that far in three months. What do you say, Ferdan, do you have as much faith in yourself as I have in you?” 

Ferdan looked between the two of them again, still searching for any signs this would end in his disfavor. Normally he would turn such an offer down, certain that it would end disfavorably for him, that there was some sort of angle for their benefit specifically. 

But thus far, he had never been given a reason to doubt the sincerity of Prince Thranduil’s offers and words. Ferdan very much doubted that the Prince would ever possibly try to do anything an underhanded or sneaky way by choice.

And so he said, “I’m willing to try anything once.” 

Prince Thranduil grinned, “Good. We’ll be training you down here from now on, so nobody can see what we teach you. Let’s start.” 

0.0.0.0.0.0.0

Lady Lutheins - just Luthien, he corrected himself since had been told and over again not to use titles, a difficult adjustment to say the list - light, narrow but highly effect wooden staff rapted on his back. 

Enough to surprise him and annoy him, but not enough to hurt, “Don’t hunch like that.” 

“Ugh,” Was all he managed, sidestepping to the right to avoid Prince - just Thranduil’s - attack. He successfully dodged the sword, but narrowly. He hadn’t fully got his balance again before he had to dive to the side to avoid another one. 

He rolled across the ground until he was at least he was a few strides away, and then quickly got to his feet. But Thranduil was already next to him again. 

Sweat stung his eyes he as he brought the sword up to meet Thrandui’s, blocking a blow to his side. Out of instinct, he moved the blade down the second he felt the pressure lesson and blocked a stab aimed lower. 

The force of them both almost rattled his bones. 

Lutheins staff poked his back again, “Don’t put your weight so much on your heels.” 

Ferdan adjusted quickly, but Thranduil apparently wasn’t satisfied that he had learned the lesson. He performed similar attacks, one above and one below. Not exactly the same as before but close enough. As Ferdan blocked the second bone-rattling attack. 

“Because then I can do this,” Thranduil said as he forcefully separated their weapons, pushing him backward. He might have been able to correct his balance had Thranduil not also hooked his foot a the back of his ankle the same moment most of his weight and stability rested on his heels, and pulled his own feet out from under him. 

Ferdan crashed onto the layer of thick hay that had somehow appeared the very next day after they had told him of the scheme to soften the blow of defeats such as this. But most importantly, protect his face from the stone-cold floor. 

Thranduil didn’t bother putting his knife to the back of his neck, everybody knew he would have been dead. Instead, he offered Ferdan a hand up and an easy friendly smile. Ferdan found himself easily accepting both. 

Once he was standing, Thranduil bent to pick up his fallen sword, “You’re getting much better. Let’s go again, and I’ll show you some better ways to block.” 

0.0.0.0.0.0

Whap. “Don’t overthink it.” 

Whap. “Don’t leave yourself open like that.” 

Whap. “That joke was too crude, even for me.” 

Whap. “You left yourself open again. 

Ferdan was fairly certain he would never be able to look at pine the same way again, because of that damn rod. Luthien had promised that if he won, then he could do whatever he liked with it as revenge. 

Whap. "Pay attention."

0.0.0.0.0.

Ferdan was leaning against a wall at the edge of the city squire, arms crossed and ears only half-listening to the play that was happening on the stage. He was only here because two of his younger sisters and one cousin had wanted to come, and they were too young to go alone. 

But as he looked around the square he wasn’t surprised to see that as more members of his street got off their long workday, all the little ones were safe and asleep in arms that would carry them home. He just hadn’t got the will to wonder home yet. 

And then something that felt suspiciously like a pebble hit his shoulder, and he frowned. Another hit him in the cheek and this time he turned his head to the left, in the direction they had come. He didn’t immediately see anything until another one smacked his throat from a noticeably upwards direction. 

Ferdan looked up to the roof and only spotted Thranduil crouched on the side of it because he had removed the hood that hid his brilliant blond hair. He made a beckoning motion with his hand, and then pointed to a ladder on the side of the building. 

When he didn’t make any motion to move, Thranduil threw another pebble. So he moved. 

Ferdan slipped through the crowds, stopping at all the friends who had taken his charges into their arms to tell them he was leaving; two mothers kissed his cheek and told him it was about time he had fun, the last, the only blacksmith on their street only nodded once with acknowledgment but continued to gently rock little Rithien in his arms. Ferdan lovingly kissed her on the cheek before walking away.

He made short work of the ladder and climbed onto the roof, startled to find that Thranduil was accompanied by Luthien, Beleg, and two other young nobles he didn’t know. As if sensing his mild panic, Luthien gave him her characteristic impossibly bright and welcoming smile, “Come and sit, I promise we’re much more fun than leaning against a wall with a frown on your face.” 

“Maybe that is my idea of fun,” Ferdan said, but nonetheless took the offered spot that had been created for him between Luthien and Thranduil. 

Thranduil handed him a waterskin, “That’s my idea of fun, but to each their own I suppose.” 

He knew it wasn’t water, but he wasn’t expecting it to be stronger than wine. A few of them laughed when he sputtered slightly, which quickly turned into appreciative grunts when he took a second, longer drink. 

“Yeah, I’d drink like that too if I had to spend nine hours a day with Thranduil.” One of the unknown warriors said, getting a laugh from the others. 

“I don’t think you will ever have to worry about spending nine hours with him, Madrion.” Luthien said, “Thranduil would knock you out within the first three.” 

The group almost roared with laughter, and Ferdan found himself easily laughing along with them. 

“It is a good thing you’re here, Ferdan.” Beleg said, and pointed to one of the actors, “We can’t hear what they’re saying from here so we’ve been making our own dialogue. But we were one person short, and I’m tired of listening to Thranduil be do characters." 

"In the purple cloak?" 

"Yes, it'll bring out your eyes." 

0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0

They all heard the door open at the same time at the far end of the cellar. Ferdan watched as Thranduil and Luthien exchanged alarmed expressions. 

‘What did you do’ Luthien mouthed to him, listening as the soft footsteps drew nearer. 

Thranduil gestured helplessly with an accompanying shrug, and then mouthed, ‘You?’ 

She did the same shrug gestures as him. 

Another few silent moments later, King Thingol himself and Prince Oropher stepped into the room they had claimed for their own at the farthest end of the cellar. Ferdan tried his best to blend in with the wall, or a barrel, or anything else that wanted to pity him at that moment. 

“Hello Ada, Uncle Oropher,” Luthien greeted brightly, giving them both her usual bright smile, “I hope you are well today.” 

“Remarkably so,” King Thingol began. 

Prince Oropher continued on seamlessly, “So much so that it suddenly came to our attention we hadn’t been informed of any mischief or misbehaving on either of your behalfs for some time now."

Quickly enough that Ferdan idly wondered if they had practiced it, King Thingol continued once more, “Which led us to the conclusion that the two of you must have managed to get away with whatever you’ve managed to get away with.” 

“For over a month,” Prince Oropher looked to his son as he said it.

King Thingo looked to his daughter, “Which, I will admit, is a concern of ours.” 

Thranduil and Luthien looked to each other and Ferdan could have fainted with relief that at least nobody was looking at him. The two of them must have made a decision, because they looked back to their respective parents. 

“You haven’t heard of any mischief and misbehaving because we have not done any for you to hear about,” Luthien countered sweetly. 

Ferdan could admire a person who could cover illegal gambling and slight bribery with such ease.

Thranduil continued, “Did I not say that helping to train Ferdan would keep me out of trouble? Should you really be complaining that I’ve kept Luthein with me?” 

King Thingol narrowed his eyes, “You’ll have to excuse my skepticism in your statements, mostly due to past experiences.”

“Entirely due to past experiences,” Prince Oropher corrected. 

Then to his great dismay, King Thingol turned his attention directly onto Ferdan, “I hope Thranduil has not been entirely rude to you?” 

“Not yet, my King,” He answered stiffly, “But the year is yeat young.”

King Thingol smiled a little, “He’s teaching you well?” 

“The best teacher who’s ever taken the time to give me a chance, sir.” 

"Hmm, well, don't let them teach you any bad habits, either." That statement was accompanied slightly sour and accusing glares to Thranduil and Luthien. 

"I wouldn't dream of it, my King." 

Prince Oropher gestured between the young royals, "We're watching you." 

And then they turned and left.

0.0.0.0.0.

There was a somewhat firm but quite knock on their front door, Ferdan was the only one left one the first floor so he got up to get it, putting his book on the table. At least his legs didn’t ache as much as they used to from the practice. 

He swung the door open and was stunned to find Thranduil standing in the doorway, “Hello?” 

“Ah, I was hoping I had the right house.” Thranduil said with a smile, like he hadn’t been delivering food here like a reverse thief, “Are you busy?” 

“Not entirely, why?” 

“Some of us are going out to the forest to see if the migration has started yet.” 

Ferdan was confused as to why he was suddenly involved in these shenanigans, “The city gates are closed for the night, and there’s no way we could go over a wall without a guard seeing us.” 

“Correct. But I happen to know a certain Prince that knows where to go under it without being seen.” He stepped back off the doorstep and into the gentle starlight and spread his arms invitingly, “What do you say? Wanna learn a few bad habits?” 

Grabbing his cloak off the hook he yelled up the stairs, “Goodbye! Love you! Be back later!”  
He waited until there were a few chorused replies, with a smile he stepped out of his house and next to Thranduil, “I think I could stand to learn a few.”

0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.

When Ferdan crept back into the house several hours past midnight, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see his Aunt Emlinien was up and sewing hole in pants, socks, and shirts alike. She smiled warmly at him as he entered. 

He smiled back in return and peeled off his boots, “Hello, you’re up late.” 

“Couldn't sleep. You’re home late, again.” She said with a sly smile, picking up another shirt and starting the next attack on a hole. “You’re having fun, its good to see. So good to see.” 

Ferdan sat down in the chair across from her, “I think I almost forgot what it was like to have fun.” 

She gave him a sympathetic look and a pat on the hand, “It's good you’ve found someone to drag it back into your life if you want it or not. I always knew you would find somebody like that somebody, you needed it. 

He laughed, “Bet you didn’t think I would find a Prince to do it.” 

“I'll admit, that aspect of if was a surprise.” 

0.00.0.0.0

Ferdan watched with his breath held as Thranduil and Beleg casually strolled closer to one another across the sparring field. 

So much of this plan rested on the acting skills of the two blond warriors. And their timing to manage to get both of them disqualified at the same time. 

When they met in the middle they bumped fists and clanged swords together briefly, and wished each other good luck. After they turned and walked a few paces away again, and got in their chosen stances to wait for the horn to be blown. 

When it did, they flew into a flurry of motion. So fast that a few sparks flew from where they clashed like personified forces of nature. They twisted and turned, flipped and dived. In a matter of minutes, the horn blew again, twice. 

Disqualification.

Feradn hadn’t even managed to see what they had done, but the referee apparently had. Thranduil made a bit of a show of obviously arguing with the one who called out their behavior. 

But as they marched back off the field, Ferdan easily noticed the wink both of them sent his way. 

0.0.0.0.0.

The tip of his blade rested against his opponent’s throat, “You’re dead.” 

With a dull thud, the other’s blade fell to the ground. 

Ferdan won. 

He had clawed his way to the top of the ladder. He had beaten everyone, everyone who hadn’t gotten themselves purposefully disqualified. 

He could hardly believe it.

The crowd erupted with cheers so deafening it was hard to recognize there was even any sound at all. With dazed eyes, he turned to look at the King’s booth, where Thranduil and Luthien were both literally jumping up and down screaming with joy and pride. 

He won. 

He couldn’t believe he won. 

He turned to look to where his Auntie sat with his siblings and cousins, finding her sobbing near uncontrollably. Dropping his sword and momentarily forgetting where he was, and that he was likely supposed to be getting some sort of ribbon or trophy for his accomplishment, he raced across the dirt arena. 

He leaped easily over the low wooden wall that separated the fighters from the audience, and took the stairs two at a time until he came to where his family had settled themselves. His aunt met him at the end of the aisle, and threw her arms around his neck and continued to sob. 

Ferdan held her tightly, and rubbed his hands up and down her back, “See, I told you that we would be okay. I told you that I would fix everything. I told you.” 

“I know you did, I know.” She sobbed harder, and all their dear little elfings swarmed them both all cheering and jumping with excitement, “I’m just so happy you won’t have to practically kill yourself and break your back every day and night to do it.” 

“Training with Thranduil wasn’t that bad.” It wasn’t what she was referring to, he knew that. But at this moment, in front of all these people, he couldn't address the long days followed by long nights he had spent in whatever place doing whatever job they would give him. “I would have done it forever if I had too. Gladly.” 

“I know you would have, I know.” 

0.00.0.0.0.0.

They told him that the party they held that night was one many couldn’t forget. However, it almost seemed as if Thranduil had made it his mission to make sure that Ferdan would never remember.

Any of it.

But he had been well informed by many that he had seemed to have had an excellent time. He had woken up in the city guards holding cells, with Thranduil next to him. Neither remembered what they had done for someone to feel the need to bring them there, but they assumed they well deserved it.

Prince Oropher came to retrieve them not long after they woke, saying nothing other than, "Again, Thranduil? Really?"  
0.0.0.0.0

Thranduil held up a hand for silence and as a warning; danger was coming. They listened as clunky footsteps approached from across the river. More orcs than he would like to see with just the two of them, but not enough that he was worried. 

After years spent on patrol in the surrounding forest and beyond together, they moved as nearly one being. Especially after months of relentless training together years before. They were connected, they were together, the were unstoppable.

Ferdan lowered himself in the undergrowth, as Thranduil pressed against a tree and seemed to almost vanish next to it. They waited. 

The orcs never knew what hit them. 

0.0.0.0.0

He wasn't often struck with the enormity of change Thranduil had casually strolled into his life with. Had poured hours and days and months of work into. 

Thranduil had never told him why he had done it, any of it. Not turning Ferdan in the first day he saw him, delivering them food, stopping his punishment, training him, the scheme, and everything else since then and in between. 

The closest he ever got to an answer was: "I was bored, it seemed fun." 

But Ferdan wasn't convinced by his cavalier attitude to it all. He had learned better, and observed better. Thranduil didn’t do anything without a valid reason, as much as he liked to pretend otherwise, ‘fun’ had never counted as a reason. Even for the trouble-causing prince. He suspected that Thranduil had seen suffering, and automatically snatched up any opportunity to help. 

It was something Ferdan had watched him do for years now. To anything that needed help, if he could provide it. Even sometimes when he shouldn't have. 

Funny to think that such a smart mouth and loose temper was attached to such a delicate heart. It was exactly the same thing Ferdans family usually said about him.

He didn't often think about the change Thranduil brought into his life, but as he stood guard in Thingol’s throne room and heard another say, "The charge was for stealing, my King." It was all he could think about. 

He must have made some sort of strangled noise, because King Thingol turned his head to the left to give him a somewhat concerned but amused expression, "Alright, Ferdan?" 

"Yes, my King." 

"Did you have something to say?" 

"Not intentionally." 

"Unintentionally?" 

"Will you allow me to help him find a suiting position of service in your castle?" 

Thingol looked back to the thief, who was very nearly trembling. Ferdan remembered when he had been in the exact same position, he just hoped they hadn’t been able to see him trembling from where they sat, "Do you have any skills?" 

"Some cooking talent. Gardening. My Nana says I’m the only one who could scrub her pots right." 

Thingol looked back to Ferdan silently, which he took as his cue, “I’ll take him to the kitchen with your leave, my King, see if they have any positions.” 

“Very well, if they do not have a spot, find anything else you think might be acceptable and come and tell me of the decision afterward.” 

0.0.0..0

“So, what I’m hearing is that there’s nothing else for me to do today,” Thranduil said with a hopeful expression to his King, slowly easing a few steps back. Following his lead, Ferdan eased backward as well. 

He watched the two of them with a resigned but affectionate expression, “It appears I might not have much of a choice either way.” 

Thranduil continued slipping towards the door, but slowed his pace even more, “Technically, you always have a choice. You are the king after all." 

King Thingol looked to Ferdan, who at least at the decency to freeze his retreat while under the direct gaze, “I should have known you could not hold out on not learning his bad habits.” 

“I’m very persuasive,” Thranduil said smoothly, easing the door handle gently with his hand behind his back. 

“Fine, be gone with you two. I will see you at the end of your hunting trip.” 

Thranduil threw the door open and nearly dove outside, “Run, Ferdan! Before he changes his mind!” 

0.0.0..0

Ferdan had never seen grief and absolute heartbreak so personified and crystal clear than the look on Thranduil's face as he stared at the King’s body, feeling as every sense of Queen Melian left their realm and souls. 

0.0.0.0.0

He didn’t really remember much of when the city burned, he did, however, remember the dwarf’s face who had stabbed him right through his thigh when he was just trying to run to his burning house to get his family. 

He remembered Thranduil checking on him long enough to ensure he wasn’t dying, before he rushed off through the burning street to Ferdan’s house himself. The city outskirts had been the first place the dwarves attacked. 

Everything after that was a blur, but he had been told he had gotten back up again to fight and protect. 

He just remembered the feeling when Thranduil told him that not all of his family had survived the attack. He remembered how many burns Thranduil had to prove that he had searched the entire house top to bottom, even as the flames grew around him to ensure that none been left behind. 

After, there was nothing until he saw his aunt's body, and his youngest sister. His father had died in the same bed he hadn't left in years. They didn’t find anything of the two others. 

He remembered that Thranduil didn’t leave his side until they heard Prince Oropher's near-hysterical shouts, "Thranduil! Thranduil! Has anybody seen my son?" 

He could vaguely remember how near-instantly the shield that Thranduil had painstakingly built around himself crumbled at the sound of his father's voice. "Ada!" As if by teleportation, Oropher was in front of his son, close enough to hear his devastated voice, "They took Nana. They took her. I tried to save her, but I was too late. I was too late." 

"I know they did," Oropher managed, pulling his son into his arms as Thranduil continued to fall apart at every seam imaginable, "I know." 

"They took everything." 

"Not everything. Not you, not me, not Ferdan." Upon hearing his name said with such affection restarted Ferdan’s own tears of devastation, Oropher moved one arm away from Thranduil to open it to Ferdan, "Come here." 

After that, his memory failed, for the most part, him until months after the second ransack of their city at the hands of Feanor’s sons. The only reason he had any idea of any of his actions or his life was because of Thranduil. 

Thranduil remembered everything. Always. The poor bastard. 

He was told that Prince Oropher had taken what was left of Ferdan and his family into his protection. He was told that Prince Orpher had allowed them to live in the same home as he and Thranduil had, paid for and arranged all for all their needs. Had tried his best to do what was right on their behalf.

Ferdan was told that he himself had sent what was left of his family to Lindon after Luthien’s death, with an escort arranged by Oropher. A decision he never once stopped being thankful for, even if he could not remember making it. 

0.0.0.0.0.0.

His family didn’t seem surprised when he ultimately decided to follow Thranduil and Oropher east and out of Lindon. 

His family had grown into a beautiful life here, and he had merely tolerated it. They had gotten married and started families of their own, they had healed from wounds. Physical and spiritual. 

Ferdan loved them all deeply, but his heart had stubbornly held onto the same hurts it got the nights of the attacks. 

He couldn't heal them here, they all knew it. 

0.0.0.00.

He stopped his horse just to the right of Thranduil’s at the head of their line, waiting for Oropher to be satisfied enough to depart. On Thranduil's other side was Galion, and after pointedly waiting for him to notice that fact Thranduil said, “Pay up.” 

“Ugh.” He began digging into his coin purse, “This is absurd. You’re a Prince, why am I paying you?” 

“Don’t make the bet if you’re just going to complain.” 

“I hate you.” 

“That's fine, money please.” 

Ferdan tossed the owed money into his lap, Galion watched the entire exchange, “Did you two bet on whether or not I would actually show up this morning?” 

“Yes.” They both answered flatley. 

“Are you serious?” 

Thranduil nodded, “I made good money,” raising his voice so that his father could also hear he continued, “Once Ada pays up!”

Oropher ignored him.

“Unbelievable.” 

“Ready for a few hundreds of years of this?” Ferdan asked him. 

“I think I can manage.” 

“Ah, you say that now,” Oropher commented, still a fair distance away. 

“I guess we’ll find out.” 

0.0.0.0.0.0.


End file.
